Friday, October 21, 2005

It was a bright, sunny day. The sunlight streamed into Zenith Magnanimous’s room. It hurt his eyes, so he turned away. But…there was something about the morning that made it seem like, this was not how it was supposed to be. He opened his eyes and looked over at his window. He was lying in bed with the blankets strewn everywhere. He realized he was sweating. Then he remembered something about what he had been dreaming before the sun woke him up. There had been a giant wolf, about six feet tall, and standing on its hind legs. He had been slumped up against a tree, arm broken badly, and a large bloodstain from where the giant wolf had bitten him. He looked out of instinct to where the wound had been, but, naturally, there was nothing, it had been just a dream. Zenith walked over to his window and looked out. He noticed what it was that was different about this morning. There were no birds singing in the trees. No people bustling about on the streets. He couldn’t even hear anything from the bottom floor of his house.

Zenith got dressed and walked down the creaking steps. He walked into the kitchen and got himself some bread and water. It was all his family had right now, what with his mother passed away. He sat at the table, eating his dull breakfast, admiring, as he always did, the sword on a shield that had belonged to his grandfather, and his great-grandfather, and his great-great grandfather, and for many generations before that. Yet the sword and shield were still in perfect condition. He hoped that one day he would be able to wield that sword.

Finally, after about an hour, he heard his father, Grith, coming down the stairs. He was fully dressed, but there was a solemn look on his face.

“Hello, son,” Grith said.

“Huh? Oh…hello father,” said Zenith, taking his eyes away from the sword and shield.

“Admiring the sword and shield again, eh?” asked Grith.

“Yeah…I was just thinkin’ how I would like to wield that sword one day,” Zenith replied.

“Maybe one day you will, Zenith,” said Grith.

“Why are you looking so solemn?” asked Zenith.

“I just noticed how the birds ain’t chirpin’ and there aren’t any people out on the streets,” said Grith.

“Maybe they’re all just sleepin’ in,” said Zenith. His father smiled.

“Maybe,” he said.

Later that day, Zenith was washing the few dishes he and his father had, when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw something run by the window. He went over to the window and peered out. Nothing. He was about to go back to his washing, when he saw the flash run by the other window. He picked up a butcher’s knife, and went over to the window and peered out. Again he saw nothing. SMASH!! He whirled around and saw a broken cup on the floor. He went over to the cup and picked up a shard. He sniffed it. It smelled like wet fur.

“Show yourself!!” he shouted. He heard a whiz behind him, and turned again. This time he could hear a faint panting…but it was growing louder. He slowly turned around again. What he saw made him drop the butcher’s knife and go weak in the knees. Standing there, about six feet tall, was the wolf from his dream. It had small, beady eyes, long sharp teeth, and deadly-looking claws. Saliva dripped slowly from its open jowl. Its head sloped forward on a long neck that was covered in fur. Its arms were long and muscular. Its feet were sloped and ended in pointed claws. All it wore were a pair of shredded black pants, and some pieces of cloth clinging to its body. Its fur was wet, like it had just been dunked in a lake. The beast’s snout was sniffing madly, and it had a wild, maniacal look in its eyes. It was panting even louder, looking at him hungrily. Then, before Zenith could do anything, the werewolf picked him up by the neck and was about to bite down on him, when a loud yelling came from behind the beast. The werewolf turned quickly, and Zenith saw his father, holding the sword from the wall, running at the werewolf. Grith ran up to the wolf man, and swung his sword at the beast’s leg. The wolf howled in pain and threw Zenith. He crashed through a window and hit a large tree. He heard a loud SNAP and his arm broke. He became very dizzy, but was able to see a little of what went on in his house. He saw the werewolf backing up, his father advancing on it. Then the werewolf swung a clawed arm out at Grith, and he flew backwards. Zenith heard a loud THUMP, and saw the werewolf pass the broken window, jaws dripping with saliva. Then he heard a howl and the werewolf ran past the window, Grith stepping toward it, a limp in his movement. The sword had dark blood on it, and was poised for another attack. Then Zenith saw the werewolf leap at his father, and Grith was thrown back against the wall again. Then, Zenith heard a scraping, and before he knew it, the werewolf had broken through the wooden wall of his house, and was advancing on Zenith once again. Zenith was too weak to do anything, and he was so frightened that he passed out. The last thing he saw was the large teeth of the werewolf coming right at him.

It was a bright, sunny day. The sunlight streamed into Zenith Magnanimous’s room. It hurt his eyes, so he turned away. But…there was something about the morning that made it seem like, this was not how it was supposed to be. He opened his eyes and looked over at his window. He was lying in bed with the blankets strewn everywhere. He realized he was sweating. Then he remembered something about what he had been dreaming before the sun woke him up. There had been a giant wolf, about six feet tall, and standing on its hind legs. He had been slumped up against a tree, arm broken badly, and a large bloodstain from where the giant wolf had bitten him. He looked out of instinct to where the wound had been, but, naturally, there was nothing, it had been just a dream. Zenith walked over to his window and looked out. He noticed what it was that was different about this morning. There were no birds singing in the trees. No people bustling about on the streets. He couldn’t even hear anything from the bottom floor of his house.

Zenith got dressed and walked down the creaking steps. He walked into the kitchen and got himself some bread and water. It was all his family had right now, what with his mother passed away. He sat at the table, eating his dull breakfast, admiring, as he always did, the sword on a shield that had belonged to his grandfather, and his great-grandfather, and his great-great grandfather, and for many generations before that. Yet the sword and shield were still in perfect condition. He hoped that one day he would be able to wield that sword.

Finally, after about an hour, he heard his father, Grith, coming down the stairs. He was fully dressed, but there was a solemn look on his face.

“Hello, son,” Grith said.

“Huh? Oh…hello father,” said Zenith, taking his eyes away from the sword and shield.

“Admiring the sword and shield again, eh?” asked Grith.

“Yeah…I was just thinkin’ how I would like to wield that sword one day,” Zenith replied.

“Maybe one day you will, Zenith,” said Grith.

“Why are you looking so solemn?” asked Zenith.

“I just noticed how the birds ain’t chirpin’ and there aren’t any people out on the streets,” said Grith.

“Maybe they’re all just sleepin’ in,” said Zenith. His father smiled.

“Maybe,” he said.

Later that day, Zenith was washing the few dishes he and his father had, when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw something run by the window. He went over to the window and peered out. Nothing. He was about to go back to his washing, when he saw the flash run by the other window. He picked up a butcher’s knife, and went over to the window and peered out. Again he saw nothing. SMASH!! He whirled around and saw a broken cup on the floor. He went over to the cup and picked up a shard. He sniffed it. It smelled like wet fur.

“Show yourself!!” he shouted. He heard a whiz behind him, and turned again. This time he could hear a faint panting…but it was growing louder. He slowly turned around again. What he saw made him drop the butcher’s knife and go weak in the knees. Standing there, about six feet tall, was the wolf from his dream. It had small, beady eyes, long sharp teeth, and deadly-looking claws. Saliva dripped slowly from its open jowl. Its head sloped forward on a long neck that was covered in fur. Its arms were long and muscular. Its feet were sloped and ended in pointed claws. All it wore were a pair of shredded black pants, and some pieces of cloth clinging to its body. Its fur was wet, like it had just been dunked in a lake. The beast’s snout was sniffing madly, and it had a wild, maniacal look in its eyes. It was panting even louder, looking at him hungrily. Then, before Zenith could do anything, the werewolf picked him up by the neck and was about to bite down on him, when a loud yelling came from behind the beast. The werewolf turned quickly, and Zenith saw his father, holding the sword from the wall, running at the werewolf. Grith ran up to the wolf man, and swung his sword at the beast’s leg. The wolf howled in pain and threw Zenith. He crashed through a window and hit a large tree. He heard a loud SNAP and his arm broke. He became very dizzy, but was able to see a little of what went on in his house. He saw the werewolf backing up, his father advancing on it. Then the werewolf swung a clawed arm out at Grith, and he flew backwards. Zenith heard a loud THUMP, and saw the werewolf pass the broken window, jaws dripping with saliva. Then he heard a howl and the werewolf ran past the window, Grith stepping toward it, a limp in his movement. The sword had dark blood on it, and was poised for another attack. Then Zenith saw the werewolf leap at his father, and Grith was thrown back against the wall again. Then, Zenith heard a scraping, and before he knew it, the werewolf had broken through the wooden wall of his house, and was advancing on Zenith once again. Zenith was too weak to do anything, and he was so frightened that he passed out. The last thing he saw was the large teeth of the werewolf coming right at him.

It was a bright, sunny day. The sunlight streamed into Zenith Magnanimous’s room. It hurt his eyes, so he turned away. But…there was something about the morning that made it seem like, this was not how it was supposed to be. He opened his eyes and looked over at his window. He was lying in bed with the blankets strewn everywhere. He realized he was sweating. Then he remembered something about what he had been dreaming before the sun woke him up. There had been a giant wolf, about six feet tall, and standing on its hind legs. He had been slumped up against a tree, arm broken badly, and a large bloodstain from where the giant wolf had bitten him. He looked out of instinct to where the wound had been, but, naturally, there was nothing, it had been just a dream. Zenith walked over to his window and looked out. He noticed what it was that was different about this morning. There were no birds singing in the trees. No people bustling about on the streets. He couldn’t even hear anything from the bottom floor of his house.Zenith got dressed and walked down the creaking steps. He walked into the kitchen and got himself some bread and water. It was all his family had right now, what with his mother passed away. He sat at the table, eating his dull breakfast, admiring, as he always did, the sword on a shield that had belonged to his grandfather, and his great-grandfather, and his great-great grandfather, and for many generations before that. Yet the sword and shield were still in perfect condition. He hoped that one day he would be able to wield that sword.Finally, after about an hour, he heard his father, Grith, coming down the stairs. He was fully dressed, but there was a solemn look on his face. “Hello, son,” Grith said. “Huh? Oh…hello father,” said Zenith, taking his eyes away from the sword and shield. “Admiring the sword and shield again, eh?” asked Grith. “Yeah…I was just thinkin’ how I would like to wield that sword one day,” Zenith replied. “Maybe one day you will, Zenith,” said Grith. “Why are you looking so solemn?” asked Zenith. “I just noticed how the birds ain’t chirpin’ and there aren’t any people out on the streets,” said Grith. “Maybe they’re all just sleepin’ in,” said Zenith. His father smiled. “Maybe,” he said.

Later that day, Zenith was washing the few dishes he and his father had, when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw something run by the window. He went over to the window and peered out. Nothing. He was about to go back to his washing, when he saw the flash run by the other window. He picked up a butcher’s knife, and went over to the window and peered out. Again he saw nothing. SMASH!! He whirled around and saw a broken cup on the floor. He went over to the cup and picked up a shard. He sniffed it. It smelled like wet fur.“Show yourself!!” he shouted. He heard a whiz behind him, and turned again. This time he could hear a faint panting…but it was growing louder. He slowly turned around again. What he saw made him drop the butcher’s knife and go weak in the knees. Standing there, about six feet tall, was the wolf from his dream. It had small, beady eyes, long sharp teeth, and deadly-looking claws. Saliva dripped slowly from its open jowl. Its head sloped forward on a long neck that was covered in fur. Its arms were long and muscular. Its feet were sloped and ended in pointed claws. All it wore were a pair of shredded black pants, and some pieces of cloth clinging to its body. Its fur was wet, like it had just been dunked in a lake. The beast’s snout was sniffing madly, and it had a wild, maniacal look in its eyes. It was panting even louder, looking at him hungrily. Then, before Zenith could do anything, the werewolf picked him up by the neck and was about to bite down on him, when a loud yelling came from behind the beast. The werewolf turned quickly, and Zenith saw his father, holding the sword from the wall, running at the werewolf. Grith ran up to the wolf man, and swung his sword at the beast’s leg. The wolf howled in pain and threw Zenith. He crashed through a window and hit a large tree. He heard a loud SNAP and his arm broke. He became very dizzy, but was able to see a little of what went on in his house. He saw the werewolf backing up, his father advancing on it. Then the werewolf swung a clawed arm out at Grith, and he flew backwards. Zenith heard a loud THUMP, and saw the werewolf pass the broken window, jaws dripping with saliva. Then he heard a howl and the werewolf ran past the window, Grith stepping toward it, a limp in his movement. The sword had dark blood on it, and was poised for another attack. Then Zenith saw the werewolf leap at his father, and Grith was thrown back against the wall again. Then, Zenith heard a scraping, and before he knew it, the werewolf had broken through the wooden wall of his house, and was advancing on Zenith once again. Zenith was too weak to do anything, and he was so frightened that he passed out. The last thing he saw was the large teeth of the werewolf coming right at him.